


A Series of Fortunate Events

by Rumaan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, Romance, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 22:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9518780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumaan/pseuds/Rumaan
Summary: Myrcella might never have dreamed about being stranded in a broken down car with Robb Stark - it didn't mean it wasn't the perfect scenario.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the amazing [@whiskeyfae](https://whiskeyfae.tumblr.com/) as a fic for charitable donations. She requested Robbcella + huddling for warmth.

It had been years since Myrcella had been up to Winterfell, the old ancestral home of House Stark. It had been something they’d done for years as kids before their parents had divorced.

Her mother had always hated it. Had complained incessantly about how they could have been vacationing in Casterly Rock rather than flying into the wilderness that was the North and staying with the Starks – a family so lost to their status that their feasts were always full of local yokels and Lord Stark would actually have one or two of them sitting up at the High Table with him. Lannisters, her mother would continue, always knew what was due to their name and status and the peasants in the Westerlands were always kept at an appropriate distance. This way of talking would always launch her father into a rage. Granted, it didn’t take a lot for Robert Baratheon to get angry about, but talking badly about Eddard Stark would always result in a frightening argument that would have Tommen flying into her arms and Joffrey flinching. Their mother would appear the next morning, icy cold in demeanour but resigned to their fate. Only the most unobservant would fail to notice the brittle way she’d hold her shoulders and how she’d wince when their father, restored to good humour, would fling a hearty arm around her and squeeze her into him.

However, once they were actually at Winterfell, Myrcella loved it. There was a freedom at Winterfell that she hadn’t experienced anywhere else and, her parents fights aside, she had always associated her holidays there as good.

Then her parents had undergone a bitter divorce when she was ten and she had never seen the Starks again.

Until she’d enrolled for a study year abroad in Braavos. Her mother had, of course, been dead set against the idea. She couldn’t understand why Myrcella wanted to experience education away from the University of Lannisport, or life away from Casterly Rock. A massive fight had ensued when she had refused to back down in the face of her mother’s wishes and she had approached the winter break with trepidation. There had been no contact with her mother since she had gone to Braavos and she wasn’t sure she was welcome back the Rock for the holidays.

But luckily, her roommate for her study year abroad had been Arya Stark. It had been a pleasant shock when she’d arrived, eyes still a little red rimmed, flung open her dorm door and seen Arya already settled in. They’d fallen back into the easy routine of being friends despite their many differences and having someone familiar there had made her transition into such an unfamiliar environment easier. Arya was her complete opposite being brave, adventurous and fun. She would saunter out into the streets with the kind of swagger than Myrcella wished she could imitate. However, Arya was also generous and loyal. Once her friend you were always her friend and she had dragged Myrcella along with her.

And that was how Myrcella had found herself back at Winterfell again.

Or she would be at Winterfell if the old Stark station wagon hadn’t broken down.

“Dammit!” Robb exclaimed, pulling open the driver’s door and letting in a swirl of cold air that had her shivering.

“No luck?” she asked.

“No. I really should have paid more attention to Mikken’s words whenever Jon and I would muck around in his garage.”

“I’ve got no reception, either,” Arya said holding up her phone.

“Yeah,” Robb replied, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “There’s no reception until you hit east of the Kingsroad.”

Arya peered out of the window and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I reckon I can make it back to Winterfell before dark.”

“What?!” Robb exclaimed.

“We’re only a couple of miles away,” she said, before giving Myrcella an assessing look. “But ‘Cella would never make it. Not before that snow cloud hits.”

“I could try,” she piped up a little hopefully before both Starks shook their heads emphatically. She wanted to be insulted but she hadn’t seen snow like this since the last time she’d been in the North.

“I should go,” Robb said. “You girls stay here and I’ll be back with help.”

Arya snorted. “You know I’ll be quicker. I’m much lighter than you and can cross country ski much faster.”

“Ski?” Myrcella queried.

“Yeah, how else did you think I was going to make it across the snowdrifts?”

Myrcella hadn’t really thought about it. She had never had this problem in the Westerlands, but she was now grateful the Starks had rejected her offer to try and make it Winterfell on foot – or rather by ski – as she had never skied before.

“Come on, Robb,” Arya wheedled as her brother continued to debate who should go. “You’re delaying me even further and I’m not impressed with this stupid ‘but you’re my little sister’ mentality you’re super close to displaying. It makes sense for it to be me.”

Apparently, Robb couldn’t argue with that and in a very short space of time – or what seemed like a short space of time to Myrcella – Arya was geared up with a thick ski suit, long skis and a backpack of essentials. With a merry wave to them both, she was off, and Myrcella had to admit that she was speedy.

“She could have been a professional if she’d wanted,” Robb commented, noticing the admiring look on her face.

“I can tell.”

“Mum was happy when she decided she’d rather go to college instead. Much safer – even if she is in Braavos.”

Myrcella thought it would be wiser to keep her mouth shut about the kind of people Arya had attached herself to in Braavos. She wasn’t sure any of the Starks would be comfortable with the kind of cutthroats Arya liked to hang out with.

Silence fell between them and she couldn’t help but feel it. No one had ever made her feel quite as awkward and clumsy as Robb Stark. She had all but groaned aloud when she’d seen who’d come to pick them up from the airport. She had hoped it would be Arya’s cousin, Jon Snow, or Sansa instead. If she had thought she’d blown up just how handsome Robb Stark was in her tween crush on him then she had been mistaken. If anything he was even more handsome than she remembered, not surprising as he was no longer a teenage boy, but a man in his twenties. His thick auburn hair and brilliantly blue eyes were something out of the movies and were set of perfectly by his broad shoulders. She wished she wasn’t so acutely aware of him, but every time he shifted, she noticed.

She was pulled out of her uncomfortable thoughts by a gust of wind that hit the car. Freezing wisps of cold air crept in through the cracks and crevices and Myrcella couldn’t help but shiver once more.

“Cold?” Robb asked her.

“A little,” she replied, not bothering to try and play it off.

“The only good thing about this situation is that the car is stocked for this kind of emergency,” he said with a breath-taking grin.

He pulled himself between the two front seats and climbed over into the back. With great difficulty, Myrcella pulled her eyes away from his backside. It was tempting to give in and ogle him shamelessly but she had nowhere to go if he caught her and she would definitely want to leave out of embarrassment.

Robb scrabbled around for a couple of minutes before emerging with a thick fleecy blanket, a thermos and another backpack.

“Having a Southron for a mum works out,” he said in delight. “She had some hot chocolate packed away, sure that you would need warming up on the journey home.”

Myrcella muttered a silent prayer of thanks for Catelyn Stark. At least this way, she’d have something to occupy her hands and her eyes that didn’t involve pulling Robb Stark closer to her and making out with him.

He passed her a small plastic cup and she wrapped her hands eagerly around it.

“This has been an eventful start to your return,” he said with a rueful smile.

She liked the sound of that. A return to Winterfell. She wasn’t sure he would even remember who she was. After all, he was six years older than her and completely unaware of her childish crush on him all those years ago. He would effortlessly charm her and the way Joffrey had teased and teased her, she was sure he must have been aware of just how painfully into him she’d been. But apparently not.

“It’s not quite how I thought it would go.”

He laughed. “Damn station wagon. I thought it would be better in the snow than my car.”

“At least it’s big. If we have to stay here all night then it’s better than being all squashed up,” she said, trying to forget the image of being huddled against Robb Stark all night. It was not safe for her sanity.

\----------

Hours later, and her words appeared prophetic. It was fully dark outside and there was no sign of Arya or a rescue team and they were down to the last third of the thermos, which Robb was now rationing. The warm lantern he’d set up in the car was doing a good job at chasing away the darkness but snow was coming down thickly, and she could tell that Robb was starting to panic but didn’t want to let on in case it made her worry. He was good at hiding it, but she was better at noticing the small things. Years of being around her parents had honed that skill.

“She’ll be alright,” she said to try and reassure him, even though she was just going off blind faith in Arya’s ability to survive anything.

“I’m that transparent,” he said ruefully.

“She’s your little sister. You’re bound to worry, but Arya is one of the most terrifyingly competent people I’ve ever met in unexpected situations.”

Robb raised an eyebrow. “You had many of those?”

“Only going to Braavos, really. I think I would have run back to Casterly Rock by now if I hadn’t had Arya. She always seems to know what to do even when things don’t go right.”

“She gets it from her namesake according to my dad.”

“Yeah? Who’s she named after?”

“My great-grandmother who was a Flint from the mountain clans. Dad only has vague memories of her, but he says there was nothing Grandma Flint couldn’t do. Apparently she still climbed liked a goat well into her old age and no situation ever phased her.”

“Who are you named after?”

“Your dad.”

“Oh,” Myrcella said with a little grimace.

“I take it I don’t take after _my_ namesake?” he queried.

She hesitated a little before she said, “Everyone says my dad is charming or was. But I don’t really have that many great memories of him and once my parents divorced, we rarely saw him. To be honest, he didn’t have that much interest in us and I heard him sneer to Uncle Renly once that we were all Lannister.”

Robb reached for her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t meant to drag up bad memories for you.”

“It’s okay,” she said with a shrug. “He died a long time ago now and as callous as it seems, I don’t miss him.”

There was a small pause before Robb said in a light tone, “So, you mentioned charm. Are you trying to say I’m charming?”

A small blush formed on her cheeks and she adverted her head away from the teasing light in his eyes. “You know you’re charming,” she said.

He laughed delightedly before saying, “You are, too, by the way.”

Her eyes flew back to his to see if he was joking or not, but there was nothing but admiration in his gaze. The colour in her cheeks deepened, but she couldn’t look away. Her hand still rested in his and he tugged a little, pulling her in closer.

There was a howl outside and Myrcella jumped.

The spell was broken and she whirled away from him and peered out her window into the dark. “There are wolves here?”

“The airport was built on the edge of the Wolfswood, which also extended further than it does now in the past.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, this time from fear rather than anticipation.

Catching on to her fear, Robb said, “Don’t worry. That howl was a mile or so away and they generally don’t venture out of the forest. We’ll be perfectly safe in the car.”

“You’re sure?” she asked, panic creeping into her tone. The Westerlands was so much more domesticated than this wild land.

“Positive,” he said with a reassuring smile. “How about we set up a couple of sleeping bags. I don’t think Arya will be back before morning now.”

Myrcella nodded and watched subdued as Robb pushed the seats down in the back and made it as cosy as it could be. Soon, she was settled in a sleeping bag, which should have helped her warm up again, but the howl had shaken her and she couldn’t stop shivering. The little bubble they had created in the car with their light hearted chat and flirting had been broken and she wanted nothing more than to feel that warmth again.

“Still cold?” Robb asked.

“Yeah. I can’t get warm,” she said.

 He paused for a moment before he asked, “You trust me?”

“Yes,” she said with a small frown. “Why?”

“Let’s put the sleeping bags together. The combined heat will warm you up quicker.”

“Okay,” she said in a small voice, determined not to analyse this too much. She was sure he would have kissed her earlier before the howl, but he might have just been caught up in the moment. However, the prospect of snuggling up in Robb Stark’s arms had her blood pumping in anticipation.

“Here,” he said, once their sleeping bags were merged and putting his arms around her loosely. He was like a furnace and she couldn’t help but bury her cold nose against the crook of his neck. He laughed at its icy touch. “You’re really cold.”

“Thin Southron blood.”

“Your hair smells like sunshine though.”

“What?!” she exclaimed, lifting her head so she could see his face, unsure if he had said what she thought he had.

Red stained his face and neck and she couldn’t help the huff of amusement that escaped her. “Really? My hair smells like sunshine?”

“Yeah, okay, that sounds really cheesy, but in my defence it does. Looks like sunshine, too. And not the weak wintry sunshine, but the glorious warm kind of a summer’s day.”

“Why Robb Stark,” she teased. “No one ever told me you were a poet.”

“And this is probably why. You’re…er…you’re really beautiful and funny and smart. Arya’s been so full of stories about you since you’ve been roommates as well as all her Facebook posts and pictures, and I…kind of volunteered to come pick you up from the airport.”

If anyone had ever asked her if Robb was smooth or not, she would undoubtedly have said yes. The fact that he really wasn’t was more endearing than she could’ve imagined.

She smiled shyly up at him and the anxious look on his face disappeared. “I’m glad you did.”

“Yeah?” he asked before he bent his head and pressed his lips against hers.

\-----------

The car was full of the pale, misty early morning sun of winter when the tapping on the window pulled Myrcella out of her sleep. She was still tucked up closely into Robb, her head on his shoulder and she revelled in how amazing it felt but the tapping started up again.

Lifting her head, she could see the Calvary had arrived, Arya’s faced pressed up to the window with a massive grin on her face as she waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Behind her, stood her taller more sombre cousin, Jon Snow, who was shaking his head at his little cousin’s antics. There was a mechanic tinkering coming from the front of the car.

“Robb!” she whispered. “Robb!”

“Hmm,” he said sleepily, kissing the top of her head and pulling her closer still to him.

“Arya’s back,” she said.

“’Kay,” he murmured before her words penetrating his dozy brain properly. He sat up quickly, looking towards the window before he rolled his eyes. “Faster skier, my arse. She totally didn’t come back last night on purpose.”

“She planned this?”

“Not the car breaking down, but she took advantage of the situation to meddle. She’s been teasing me for weeks about how often I comment on pictures of you both.”

Myrcella couldn’t help but be grateful that her friend had decided to take a hand. Plus, who could’ve known a long standing argument with her mother, a faulty car and a match-making sister could have such positive results?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently writing fics for charitable donations - you can find my tumblr post about it [here](http://rumaan.tumblr.com/post/156548392946/following-on-the-footsteps-of-ponyregrets-post-i). If you would like a fic for any of those fandoms/pairings then I'll happily write for you when you screenshot me a copy of your donation.


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